


sweet touches to set me free

by viperbranium (ViperSeven)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: BDSM, Bucky Barnes as Captain America, BuckyCap - Freeform, Dom Steve Rogers, M/M, Modern Steve Rogers, Sub Bucky Barnes, i hereby declare that bucky!cap x modern!steve shall be called from now on, shronkyclonks, though this one's pretty sfw, yep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-27 06:36:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16213484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViperSeven/pseuds/viperbranium
Summary: "Go get yourself out of your head for a bit.”Bucky opens his mouth in protest. I’m fine, he wants to say, but Nat’s quirked eyebrow already tells him the lie isn’t gonna hit the mark.“I can’t,” he says instead, a resigned smile on his face. “I’m Captain America.”~Or the one where Bucky is Captain America, and also a sub, and has gone way too long without a dom.





	sweet touches to set me free

**Author's Note:**

> For @superwoman0124, who requested some bdsm (ps: if you're reading this and have an ao3 handle, DM me so I can gift this to you!). The rest just happened.

Nat knows. Of course Nat knows. It should surprise him, maybe. Especially seeing how he’s never mentioned this to anyone and barely just admitted it to himself, really… But it’s _Nat_ , so it doesn’t surprise him.

What does surprise him, though, is how bad he’s let it get.

What does surprise him is the way his whole body quivers when she casually places a hand on the nape of his neck; a friendly, innocent gesture that his touch-starved body chooses to see as something else entirely, and Bucky has to physically stop himself from leaning into the touch.

Nat doesn’t miss his reaction. Her eyes narrow and she considers him for a full minute before saying, “I know a place.”

Bucky stares back at her with questioning eyes, but it’s unconvincing even to himself. _Of course_ Nat knows.

Natasha doesn’t answer his unspoken inquiry, and doesn’t comment on Bucky’s bedroom preferences, or how she learnt about them. She just grabs Bucky’s phone and types in an address and a code word.

“Here. Go get yourself out of your head for a bit.”

Bucky opens his mouth in protest. _I’m fine_ , he wants to say, but Nat’s quirked eyebrow already tells him the lie isn’t gonna hit the mark.

“I can’t,” he says instead, a resigned smile on his face. “I’m Captain America.”

He doesn’t elaborate, but he knows Natasha doesn’t need him to. He’s a public figure, whether he likes it or not. He cannot be seen at this kind of place.

He should feel anger at the thought that, after everything he’s been through, his life is still not his own to live, but very much like with his needs and desires, this, too, is something he’s learned to ignore.

“It’s a discreet place,” Natasha says, brushing a caring thumb across Bucky’s cheek. “Trust me.”

And there’s a finality to that line that warns Bucky not to ask how she knows.

. . .

Bucky knows better than to doubt Natasha, but he can’t help but be relieved when neither the men at the door nor the guy at the bar look at him twice. He gets a couple looks from a few patrons as he walks towards an empty table in the corner, but they seem to be gauging mutual interest, rather than looks of recognition.

The place is far less intimidating than what Google images or Bucky’s own brain have been conjuring up; more like a fancy club than anything else. There’s a stage, currently empty and with a classic theater look to it, the overhead lighting set up in a way that would block out the patrons during a performance. Some of the tables have kneeling cushions around them, instead of chairs, and there’s a few booths half-hidden behind silky curtains on the far end wall.

The whole setting is in good taste, meant to be enticing and hedonistic, sure, but elegantly so. None of that is helping Bucky _not_ be a panicky, anxious mess.

He’s good at this. He’s _good_ at this, damn it. Good at being effortlessly charming, at making himself look desirable and inviting through body language alone. Better yet after a half-lidded look and a line or two spoken in sultry tones. This shouldn’t be that much different from picking up partners at nondescript pubs in 1940’s Europe.

Except it is.

Except in the forties there had always been soldiers that would get a little too excited and start bossing Captain America around right away when given the chance, and every time it had been unprompted and spontaneous enough that no one had ever given the possibility of Bucky actually _craving_ that domination any thought. It had never quite been what Bucky needed, not fully, but it had been enough.

In the forties there had been Peggy Carter, and she, like Nat, had taken one look at him and had _known_. She’d taken Bucky apart piece by piece and put him back together again, and, up until when she’d met Gabe, she’d given Bucky that sweet, blissful release he so desperately needed. And Bucky never had to actually ask for it.

This? This is him _asking for it_. There’s a very specific purpose to this club. To the scarlet ribbon that got tied around his right wrist at the door. Everything about his presence in this place is a declaration of intent, like he’s suddenly shouting into the wind something he’s never even dared to tell anyone, and that thought alone _terrifies_ him.

He takes another sip of his drink, nerves threatening to make him spill it, and can barely get the scotch past the lump in his throat.

He _tries_. He stays for a whole hour, mostly because he knows he really needs it. It’s been too long since the last time ( _way_ too long, if you count the years in the ice), and the recent world-saving hasn’t exactly helped with the restlessness and the being constantly on edge.

He stays because Natasha’s hand on his neck had practically made him dizzy, further proof yet of the state he's in, but after a whole hour of making himself small in his seat and avoiding eye-contact with everyone, he’s about ready to call it quits.

He finishes his drink in one gulp, gets off his chair, and heads for the door, ready to try some app instead --they have apps for _everything_ these days, Bucky’s sure there has to be one for BDSM-- when he hears a soft “Hey,” and spots someone approaching him out of the corner of his eye.

The first thing he notices when he turns are the man’s eyes. They are the deepest shade of blue Bucky’s ever seen, so deep he feels like he could drown in them, and he has to draw in a small breath to make sure he still can. His lashes are a mile long.

The next thing he sees are his lips. Plush and a lovely shade of pink and curved up into a warm, kind smile.

“You forgot your jacket,” the man says, holding Bucky’s jacket out for him. Bucky’s eyes follow the movement, and fall on the black ribbon tied around the guy’s wrist.

Bucky wets his lips involuntarily, and he has to keep his hands from shaking as he goes to take it from the man, because god, he’s _stunning_. He looks like something out of some Greek myth with those striking blue eyes and blond hair, towering barely an inch above Bucky, but wider across the chest and shoulders. He’s wearing a blue button down shirt that brings out his eyes even more, tucked into his black slacks and with the sleeves rolled up. His jaw is strong and manly, but his expression is gentle.

And he’s now staring at the red ribbon Bucky’s wearing.

Bucky quickly takes the jacket from him, and has to resist the urge to use it to hide the ribbon indicating he’s a sub. “Thanks,” he tells him. It comes out shaky and kind of shy, and _christ_ , Bucky can’t even remember the last time he was _shy_ about something.

“‘S nothing,” the guy tells him, smiling wider. His eyes crinkle beautifully as he does. “You were leaving?”

Yes, he should leave. He was about to leave. But he’s looking at this gorgeous man, at his reassuring smile and his whole welcoming yet unobtrusive demeanor, like he’d like Bucky to stay but wouldn’t push if Bucky said no… and he _wants_.

“I could stay for a bit,” he says, shrugging with one shoulder. Something innocent, just testing the waters. “I’m Bucky.”

The guy visibly perks up at his answer.

“Steve,” he replies, holding out his hand, his black Dom ribbon practically beckoning to Bucky.

Bucky shakes it, and it all but sends a shiver down his spine. Steve’s grip is firm, but warm and kind like his eyes. He’s got big, strong hands with long pianist fingers, and Bucky can’t help but think about those hands on him, pinning his wrists down to the bed and taking him apart, until he forgets about Captain America and the Avengers and how completely fucked up it is that he feels so damn lonely he even misses a time where the world was at fucking war.

“Whoa, there,” Steve’s saying, and he’s got an arm around Bucky’s waist and is holding him against his chest, keeping him steady on his feet before Bucky can even realize he’d been swaying. “You okay?”

“Sorry…” Bucky squeaks out. “I’m… I just got a bit lost in my head. It’s been a while since I last… y’know,” he finishes, running a nervous hand through his hair.

“Bucky,” Steve says with a hint of concern. He lifts Bucky’s chin and looks into his eyes, considering him. Bucky could fucking _melt_. “I think you’re slipping under…”

Bucky nods, a bid dazedly. “It’s been--” _a while_ , he’s going to say, but then he realizes he just said that. “I’ve been kinda on edge,” he tells Steve instead. Understatement of the century.

Steve shoots him an understanding look. “I should take you home,” he says.

“No.” Bucky shakes his head. “No, I’m fine.” Steve looks unconvinced, and he opens his mouth like he wants to argue, but Bucky cuts him off. “Please, I know what I’m doing. I’m not that far under yet, I promise.” He’s not. Far from it, really. He might’ve been pushing his body too far, might be strung so tightly that this man just touching him, holding him without even being in Dom mode is enough to set his skin ablaze and make his head start spinning, but he’s still making this decision consciously. Perks of the serum running through his veins, he can push his body to the utmost limits and still retain some measure of focus.

He also doesn’t miss how, upon observing how deep under, how pliable Bucky might currently be, Steve’s automatic response was to take Bucky home. They are in a BDSM club and he’s got a willing sub in his arms, and instead of getting him to a booth he’s questioning Bucky’s ability to consent and offering to bring him home.

Not that he or anyone would be able to hurt _Captain America_ , no matter how far under Bucky really was, but the sentiment counts.

“I thought you looked familiar…” Steve said, a small smirk curling his lips. Fuck, Bucky said that out loud? “But I’m glad to know I’ve got a willing sub in my arms, cause I really fucking want you, Bucky,” he finishes, his voice suddenly dropping and his tone turning deep and assertive, shooting electricity up Bucky’s spine.

God, _yes_. It’s like his whole body just snaps, and all those desires he’s been doing such a good job at keeping pushed back into some dark corner of his brain suddenly start to overflow, spilling over out of control and washing over him, and Bucky can already feel that nagging urge, that _need_ , down to the tip of his toes. Steve’s lips look so soft and his lashes are endless and Bucky’s sure he’d be able to feel them against his skin if they kissed. God he fucking wants to kiss him so badly.

“Please,” he says. “ _Please_ , Steve. I need it.”

Steve huffs out a breath, and Bucky can actually see his pupils blowing, the black swallowing that intense blue until there’s only a small ring of color left. Steve’s arm around his waist draws him closer, and Bucky’s eyes flutter close for a second, completely overwhelmed by Steve’s warmth

“Okay. Okay, this is what we’re gonna do,” Steve tells him. “We’re gonna go to my place, and we’re gonna pull off some non-disclosure agreement from the internet for me to sign -- I know you’re not saying it, but you might regret not having it… later. And I want to make my intentions clear.”

“Fair,” Bucky says, and gestures for him to keep going.

“Then we’re going to go over your limits real quick.” Bucky opens his mouth to protest, but Steve wraps his free hand around his neck, and suddenly he can’t remember how words work.

“Don’t interrupt me,” Steve warns, but his eyes are dancing. “I know I can’t hurt you, but I still want you to feel good, ‘kay? I want to know the things you like.”

He waits for Bucky to nod to go on. “Good. And...” Tentatively, he pushes his thumb into the hollow of Bucky’s neck. It pulls a choked out moan from Bucky’s throat. “And then, if you still want it, I’m going to fuck you, to tear you apart completely until you’re a wrecked, crying mess under me, until you completely let go of everything inside your head and the only thing you remember is my name.”

“Oh, _god_. Steve--”

“But first,” Steve cuts him off, grabbing a fistful of Bucky’s head and tilting his head back, just this side of rough. “I’m going to kiss you. That okay?”

Bucky’s not sure his “Yes--!” comes out as anything more than a breathy, needy sound from the back of his throat, but it must be good enough for Steve, because the next second his mouth is on him, and it’s hot and claiming, sending fire coursing through Bucky’s veins, and Christ, Bucky cannot remember ever feeling anything like this.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not entirely happy with this one writingwise cause I feel that with the word count limit I kinda had to rush the whole thing, but I do LOVE the idea, so poke me enough and I just might write a part 2 bECAUSE REASONS. I kinda did promise the people on tumblr sooooo... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> [[rebloggable version here]](http://viperbranium.tumblr.com/post/178455811529/a-buckycap-x-modernsteve-au)
> 
> [[follow me on the tumblrs]](http://viperbranium.tumblr.com)


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